Flying Sparks
by secretlife1201
Summary: Sequel to Mockingjay. Set before epilogue. Katniss is trying to recover from her sisters death, the war, everything. The Captital Hunger Games are set to be held soon and other problems are sure to emerge. Story much better than summary. Please Read!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N_

_Okay, so this is for the thirty percent of you who actually read this._

_I just finished re-reading The Hunger Games series (which is most likely the most genius series I've ever read, no offense Harry Potter and Twilight, so I was especially inspired to write a sequel to Mockingjay. I didn't really like how it ended (with that very vague epilogue) and all. So this story is what would happen before the epilogue and before she officially hooked up with Peeta. Some of the time of events will be changed, but it will make the story better (I hope). Anyway, I just wanted to say that to clear up any confusion._

_Secondly, I just wanted to say that I am obviously that genius author Suzanne Collins and all props go to her. I don't really understand why people always add disclaimers to their stories (considering, they are most obviously not the original creator) but that's just me. You can do whatever you want with my story, I was just clearing that up also._

_Lastly, if you see anything you like or want to change or just want to make a suggestion on, then be my guest. I love hearing comments to my stories. _

_Sorry for such a long authors note, here's the story:)_

Chapter 1

The familiar crunch of the fallen leaves beneath my boots sooth's my nerves almost instantly. They drain from my body quickly and awe replaces them shortly after. As I look around, I realize that this is a lucky day to have decided to hunt. The air is crisp and clean, clearing my mind of its worry and distress the past months have brought on. The chill that runs down my spine is welcoming, cooling the beads of sweat developing on my forehead. And in that perfect second, everything feels the same. Normal. As if Prim had never been picked for the Hunger Games, I had never volunteered, and the mere thought of another rebellion ever starting was insignificant. When I was still partly myself- of course, I wasn't completely myself, from the lack of a father, but the tough one that fiercely protected my family- not the broken, scratched, drowned, burned, broken result of Katniss Everdeen.

The unexpected snapping of a fallen tree branch brings me back to present day, to the truth. I spin around, rising my bow far above my head- not the fancy one Beetee made for the Mockingjay, but the one my father built with his own strong hands while he was still alive. The arrow is ready to be released when my eyes register the being.

"Dammit, Haymitch." I snap, letting the arrow fall to the ground. "You know better than to startle someone with weapon in hand. That's how people end up dead."

Haymitch Abernathy, my former mentor and present neighbor part walks- part falls in my direction until we're only a few inches from each other. As I bend to pick the arrow up, the sweet stench of alcohol wafts off of his tongue and on to my face. "I've made it thisss far haven't I, sweeeetheart?"

I nod reluctantly. I'll give the drunk bastard this; it's true, he has.

"What do want?" I ask, annoyed by his appearance. "I have to be getting this fresh game back to Greasy Sae for her stew before its completely rotted." I know its an exaggeration, it would take hours for that meat to spoil. But I don't feel like talking to Haymitch.

When he doesn't immediately reply, I bend down and retrieve my game bag, slinking my bow over my head and across my left shoulder. I begin to trudge back through the forest when I hear his voice echo through the trees.

"We need to talk!" He yells after me, not even slurring his words like last time.

I halt in my tracks, stopping only because of the familiarity in the tone. Its the voice he uses when things are serious, when we really do need to talk. I wait for him to reach me until I answer. "Make it quick." I say, pointing to the game bag being grasped firmly in my hand.

Haymitch gets right down to business as soon as we take a seat on a mossing log lying conveniently nearby. "A meeting is being held regarding the upcoming Hunger Games of the Capital."

I shrug my shoulders. "How does this concern me?"

"The meetings between the President and the remaining victors. And probably Plutarch."

It takes me exactly no seconds to respond. "I'm not going back to the Capital. I never will. You can count me out." My eyes search over him quickly, looking to see if he had brought some kind of mechanism to drug me so I'd be forced to attend the meeting, even if I refused- which I'm sure everyone knew I would. When they find nothing but a half empty wine bottle, I relax just a little.

My thoughts come true when he says "We all knew you would, so everyone came here."

My eyes just about bug out of my skull as my mouth hangs down to my feet. "What?"

"People will begin to arrive at your house in a couple of hours. The meeting is being held in your dinning room, after Greasy Sae serves dinner. Guards will be on constant watch."

And after he says those words, I know he has told them not to ask my approval, but as a warning. He has come to warn me of the people who will be taking refuge in my house soon. "Why hasn't anyone told me until now?"

He goes quiet looking at the ground. When he doesn't reply I grow angry. "Haymitch!"

"Fine." He says finally. "No one wanted to upset you. You are needed at the meeting, and we know how you go into your fits sometimes."

"I do not go into fits!" I shriek, though we both know its a lie.

"Sure. Well, I've come to collect you then. You're coming one way or another."

He is not strong enough to carry a writhing girl through the woods for about a mile, but that is why he has brought back-up. As I look closer into the woods, I realize soldiers- most likely Paylors', have taken an almost circle form around me. I have no chance at running now. I mentally kick myself for not noticing sooner.

"Does Peeta know?" Though I asked the question, I already know the answer.

He nods. "He knows how to control his anger better."

Of course Peeta Mellark, my fellow tribute in the 74th Hunger Games from district 12, my neighbor, my portrayed lover, and- most importantly- my friend, knew. "Fine, then. Lets get this over with." I say, surprised at how calm my voice appears. When Haymitch doesn't rise up from the log with me, I give him a questioning look.

"I thought we'd need a whole team of incredibly trained soldiers to get you to come with me."

I shrug my shoulders. "I'm not as strong as I once was." I'm not sure if I mean mentally or physically; because it would be true for both. The Hunger Games and the war have weakened my body over time. Shortness of breath comes almost every time I walk more than a few yards, and I tire easily now. When I look in the mirror, the person looking back is not me. Of, course, I know it has to be. But the youth I had has been robbed from my eyes. They're dark and vancant, souless. This is nothing compared to my mental state. The suicidal thoughts that haunted my mind constantly have begun to decrease, but not by a significant amount. Visions of my sister weave in and out of my head constantly, only going away when I concentrate on old habits, like hunting.

"None of us are. The capital has succeeded in their ultimate task. Even though they lost the war, they've still managed to break us."

As we make our way back to my house, we stay quiet. Haymitch and I are so similar, neither of us are one for meaningless conversation. Instead of talking, we look at the familiar streets that had been blown up in the earlier bombings. They're just getting starting to get rebuilt. My eyes wander over the large heaps of gray ash lying where the buildings that made up my home used to be. Suddenly, when I find where the bakery used to be an ache begins in my chest.

"Hey, Haymitch," I ask, penetrating the silence between us at last. "I thought Peeta was re-building the bakery."

"I thought he was also. Guess he gave up that dream."

I think that over. Peeta wasn't the type of person to give up on something. Especially when that something was the only thing left he had of his family. I let it drop though. Haymitch didn't know anything.

Once we reach my house in Victors Village, Haymitch says his farewell and slumps back to his house, complaining about the lack of alcohol in district 12 as he went. I shook my head and smiled slightly. It was replenishing to know somethings will never change.

I walked up to the house, and am immediately greeted by the smell of some kind of filling in the oven. As I walk closer I realize that Greasy Sae isn't the only one working hastily in the kitchen. I drop my game bag on the counter next to her and she gives me a toothy grin. Then I turn to Peeta working over a cooking board, kneading dough vigorously.

"Hey." I say.

Peeta looks up and grins at me the way he used to. "Hey. You didn't kill Haymitch did you?"

I know he's just kidding, so I play along. "No, he made it out alive. I can't promise such things for you though."

This just makes his grin fall, being replaced by a sincere grimace. "I'm sorry. I really am. I wasn't allowed to tell you. We didn't want you to get upset."

"It's okay. I understand. It's probably better that I wasn't told until now. Gave me a few more days of sanity."

He nods, then asks something that startles me. "Katniss, do you want to help me?"

I am taken back by this. He had never asked before, as I was such a bad cook. Under normal circumstances, I would have declined the offer. But something in that spark in his cool blue eyes says he'll be hurt if I do.

"Sure." I say, shocking myself and bringing a smile back to his face. "What do I have to do"

"First, you have to wash your hands."

I nod.

I go over to the sink, and am rubbing the soap between my hands when Greasy Sae speaks from behind me. "Well, I'll be going now. Take the filling out in 20 minutes. Oh, and Katniss?"

I turn towards her, surprised that she has something more to say- Sae is usually a quiet women.

"Beware of Mr. Grab-Hands over there." She says pointing at Peeta with bony finger. Then she walks out, yelling "20 minutes!" just before we here the front door swing shut.

I go back to the the sink, trying to hide the fact that my mouth was just about to the floor and my cheeks were a bright crimson color. The water running from the faucet covered up the sound of my laughter, or so I thought it did, because when I turned around Peeta is also laughing.

"Okay, 'Mr. Grab-Hands', what am I to do now?" I ask, cracking a smile at his new nickname.

Peeta gives me a look, then continues with the directions. "Well, I've already made the dough, now I'm rolling it out. You can help with that."

I go to the counter where he is, and he moves over for me to take his place. I place my hands on the smooth mound of dough on the cooking board and start trying to knead it. Immediately, the dough breaks off in my hands and I curse under my breath. "I can't do this." I admit, dropping the dough bits I had accidentally broke off.

"Yes you can," Peeta whispers in my ear, his lips closer to me than I thought. "You just have to be more gentle." And then he takes my hands in his, working the dough in an almost rhythmic way so that its perfect when were done.

"You have more patience than I'll ever have." I comment to him when we're done.

He nods. "But, you're stronger than I'll ever be."

I think that over. "Maybe strategically, but definitely not physically. I can hardly walk without gasping for air moments later."

It is after I say those words that I notice how close we actually are. Peeta has me pressed up against the counter looking at him. I push against his chest slightly, to back him away from my personal space. But instead, he comes closer. Before I know it, his lips are on mine and he's pulling me closer to his body. I fight against him, but to no avail. I was right to say he was stronger than me. I give up and just let him drag his tongue on the inside of my mouth until he break away for air.

"Are you done?" I ask, no sarcasm even in my voice.

"Yeah. Sorry, I guess old feelings emerging."

"Really?" I ask. "Because they seemed pretty recent to me."

He smiles and is about to say something when the beeper on the oven goes off, the obnoxious sound radiating through the kitchen so that it's impossible to miss. Peeta goes to retrieve the filling from the oven, and that gives me time to escape. I sprint from the kitchen, down the hall, up the stair, and eventually make it to my room. I collapse on my bed, completely out of breath from the running.

As my heart rate finally begins to fall, and I can breath properly again, my minds begins to race. I try to decipher what all the words and actions we exchanged leading up to the kiss meant. _Did I give him false indications that I wanted it to happen? Did I mean for it to __happen? Did I like what happened?_

At that last thought, I nod my head. Of course I liked what happened.

_**PLEASE REVIEW**_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N_

_Sorry that it took so long for me to update. Hopefully the next chapter will be up by Monday!_

_Heres the Story:)_

* * *

Chapter 2

I was given about an hour or so by myself before three knocks at the door interrupted my unintentional crying. I quickly rubbed my swollen eyes, trying to push away any evidence of being weak. Once I look in the mirror and see that it had not helped what so ever I decide to ignore the knocking. I slump back to the bed and curl up into ball, my knees rising up to meet my chest and my arms wrapping themselves protectively over them. I know I should try to stop crying, as its only going to make them more obvious, but the tears won't stop. They continue to rain down my cheeks like rain on a window; never ending until they reach my shirt- causing damp spots to appear in their places.

The knocking doesn't decease because after it becomes clear I won't be answering the door anytime soon, in becomes vocal.

"Katniss!" Yells who's ever at the door- most likely Haymitch. "If you don't open this goddamn door already, I'll break it down!" Definitely Haymitch.

I don't open the goddamn door though, and after a while he leaves.

My body shudders once the all out bawling starts. Over and over again moans of pain escape my lips. The whole house can probably here me now, which is probably why nobody's pushed more for my appearance. Before I know it, I hear a name being called. At first I think it's just somebody at the door again, but then I realize it's not my name. It's my sisters.

"Prim." It calls. The voice is almost hollow. Empty. And then I discover its my own. I'm the one calling for her. "Prim, I'm sorry." I whisper between cries. "I'm so sorry."

Its been a long time since I've talked about her. At first, memories of Prim just brought pain. Whenever I thought about her, all I could think about was how that little crease between her eyebrows would appear whenever she was trying to figure out how to heal someone, or how that tail of fabric would peek out under her shirt when she wore shirts too large on her tiny frame. And how I would never again see them. See her. It was thoughts like these, flashbacks of her, that constantly streamed through my head, my own never-ending nightmare.

But this wasn't even the worst part.

After a while, the memories stopped playing in my head. Instead, they jumped straight from my mind, playing out right in front of me while I sat in that chair in the living room. It was like I wasn't just thinking about her anymore, I was _seeing_ her. On the outside, I looked perfectly still, unmoving, numb. But on the inside, I was screaming. Begging for someone to hear the unspoken words that would set me free. Nobody listened, and I was alone.

I was alone once again, and I vaguely wonder if I'm going crazy. I've tried to pretend that everything was okay. That my mother hadn't abandoned me, and the war had never happened. That my sister hadn't died. That I wasn't the Mockingjay or the Girl on Fire, just Katniss Everdeen- the girl from District 12 whose father died in a mine explosion. The girl who hunted illegally with her best friend so that their families had food on the table.

I squeeze my eyes shut and bring my knees closer to my heart; trying to keep myself from unraveling. I don't know why I ran from Peeta like that. There was really nothing wrong with what we did. The war was over and I could be with who ever I wanted to be with now. But the big question weighing heavily in my mind was this; _Do I want to be with him? I know that I love him, but like that?_

A sharp impatient knock at the door brings me from my sobs and mental questions, and back to my bedroom. The knocking is different than the ones before its' siblings. Higher and quicker. It is this difference that makes me stop for a second to listen to the words being yelled at me.

"For Gods Sakes, you can't stay in this room feeling bad for yourself forever!"

And it is that voice that makes me sit back up from the bed and answer the door. I take a tissue from the small box next to my bed on the way and try to wipe away all the tears. I know it isn't going to help my appearance much, but it eases my mind a little that I have some control over this.

Just who I thought it was greets me at the door, fist held up from the interrupted knock they were about to send. As I look them over, a sense of joy fills me. Not quite happiness, but more not bitterness either.

"Johanna." I say looking her over. I'm glad to see she's got more meat on her bones and her dark hair that had been shaved about a year ago has filled in to a shoulder-length bob. I know it doesn't change what happened, but I lets my mind begin to scar. Suddenly, I feel self-conscious of how I must look. Thin, though I have food on my table every meal. Tired, even with a warm bed to crawl into. And weak, most importantly. Johanna Mason has been through hell and I have the guts to lock myself in my bedroom because I can't handle the death of my sister after almost a year. I quickly wipe away any tears, though I know she's already seen and most likely heard the cries."What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know, trying to get a cry-baby out of her room so we can have this stinking meeting already." She replies, her wide-set brown eyes boring into mine, and a smile coming on her face. Even with the rude remark, I know shes glad to see- as I am to her.

Before I can even comprehend the actions my body is making, I'm right in front of her, my arms going around her narrow torso in a hug. I am shocked by what I've done and pull back almost immediately. I'm not the hugging type. And either is she. But seeing her healthy and back to her old self- well, as anyone who survived the Hunger Games, torturing, and a war can look- made me realize how much I actually missed her.

"So now you're giving people hugs when they insult you." She says to me a few seconds later. "Wow, you really have gone crazy."

I shrug my shoulders. "I'm pretty sure we all have."

Johanna nods to this. "I'll give you that. Are you going to invite me in or not?"

I look back to my room, then move away from the threshold so that she can enter. We both go back to the bed and sit. After a few minutes I ask whats shes been up to, partly to start conversation and partly to postpone her dragging me down to where everyone's been waiting for hours, no doubt.

I learn that she first went back to District Seven- around the same time I was released to come back to District Twelve-, hoping to find some people she knew before. Unfortunately, pretty much everything had burned down in a fire. Since their district was known for lumber, almost every building was made out of all natural wood and caught like a match when bombs had been dropped. Once she found nothing was left of her district, she left and walked until she reached District Two. Now, she's lived there for the past year as chief commander of the 'Recovery Project', a project she created to recover all the land and buildings destroyed in the war.

After she's done with how her life's been, she naturally asks about mine. Not for the first time today, I feel embarrassed of what little I've done in the last year. I've done nothing but sit around being depressed- sometimes going hunting on sane days- while Johanna's started a whole project to recover the nation.

"Keeping life worthwhile, I see." She says, smirking at my ashamed expression.

"I know. I'm pathetic." I whisper, looking down at my hands folded on my lap.

"Well that's not exactly going to change by locking yourself in your room to cry your eyes out." Johanna may not take anyone's feelings into consideration when she spoke, but her words were always true- no matter how cruel. She has never been a liar, nor was she now.

I continued to stare at my hands, hatred towards myself boiling up inside me. Prim would have never acted as I did if we were in switched places. She would have gone on, putting her built-up anger into working hard towards healing the wounded, not by sitting in a chair waiting to rot. When I don't speak, she does.

"Now are you coming down or not? I'm fine with skipping the meeting all together. Just checking with your plans."

"Yes, I suppose I have to."

We rise from the bed and walk to the hallway. I turn to close the door, and when I look back I see Johanna frozen in mid air. A funny look crosses her face and she looks at me. "This might be a bad time to say, and I promised him I wouldn't tell. But I've never been one for keeping secrets that don't really affect things."

I look at her perplexed. _What was she talking about? Who was 'he'? _I wonder if shes been drinking too much alcohol lately, but quickly push that exclamation away.

Johanna smiles. "You know how I've been living in District Two?" When I give a confused nod, she continues. "Well I ran into your _cousin_, Gale. He makes a good tour guide."

I feel my eyes grow wide and my mouth drop. I hadn't talked to Gale since we were in the Capital, when I found out it could have been his bomb that killed Prim. I missed him frequently, especially when I went hunting. Thinking about him now made memories of kissing Peeta earlier in the kitchen resurface for some reason, which just made me blush. "How is he?" I ask, trying to keep any anger towards him out of the tone.

"I knew it was a bad time to say anything." She says quickly, leaving me holding on to a thread.

"No, tell me! All I asked was how he was. That's not a crime."

"Yeah, but your face got all weird. Like you were confused by what emotion you should show, so you wore them all."

I put my hand on my face, trying to hide whatever she saw. "I really do want to know how he is. I haven't even talked to him for months." When I say those words, I know that I'm hurt by his absence.

That strange look surfaces again on her face- and I say strange because its an expression I've never seen settle itself on her features; a smile, but not in a way that's devilish or mocking. That smile actually reaches her eyes. She's genially happy about something to do with Gale. My best friend. My very handsome best friend who's good at more things than just guiding tours...

And that's when I lounge at her.

I can tell I startle her, because her smile disappears and she stumbles back a few feet. Johanna goes instantly into protective mode seconds later, though. She pushes me back to the wall behind me and snarls. "What the _hell,_ Everdeen?"

I look at her, shocked at myself. The thought just popped in my head without me even wanting it to, and the next moment I was wrapping my arm around her throat. It was an out of body experience. I don't even know why I reacted that way.

When she sees I'm not going to attack her again her grip on my arms slackens. "What is your problem?"

I stare at her, wondering the same thing myself. I feel my shoulders shrug, the only answer I can handle. When she continues to look at me, exasperated, I find my voice- finally remembering why I attacked her in the first place. "What am _I_ doing?" I all but scream. "What are _you_ doing? How could you? I thought you-" I cut off mid sentence, and look away, embarrassed. I never realized this before, but I actually thought of her more than an ally.

"What? You thought of me as what?"

I look back up at her. "A friend! I thought you were my friend!"

"I am."

I lean in closer, making sure I had heard right. "If you were really my friend you wouldn't be with Gale."

Johanna shakes her head, and whispers "Katniss, you're so selfish."

I feel my jaw drop right there. I may be a lot of things, but selfish was never something I thought was among them. "I am not!"

I see anger flash in her eyes, and before I know it, she's yelling. "Yes, you are! _You_ chose to detach yourself from him! _You _let him leave! _You _blamed him for Prim's death! _You_ picked Peeta over him! And _you're _the one in here acting like you have any right to tell me that I can't have him!"

As I hear the words, I know they're true. I have no right to even care who Gales with. Before I can apologize or even reply, she's gone. Disaperating into the air until nothing was left.


End file.
